Anne Herries - Lady in Waiting

C atherine would have liked to spend some time alone in the garden before joining the others that evening, but since it was raining it was barred to her and she did not want to go down too soon for fear of any inconvenience to her hostess. Lady Stamford took a long time over her toilette, and in consequence they did not go down until summoned by a maid. If she had hoped for a quiet moment alone it was not granted her.

Over supper she was given no opportunity to reveal her mellowed mood, because Matthew Middleton was a big, bluff man who talked and laughed a great deal. He had much to say for himself, and wanted to hear what his brother-in-law had to contribute on many topics, his loud voice dominating the conversation. However, Catherine found it interesting to listen, for in this way it was revealed that Sir Nicholas had but recently returned to England after some eighteen months of travelling on the Continent.

‘You wrote of your visit to Italy,’ Matthew Middleton said, attacking the good roast goose set in front of him with gusto. He ate with his fingers and a knife in the time-honoured way, using a trencher of bread to soak up the rich sauces, though all the ladies had been provided with both a knife and a spoon, a luxury not always to be met with in country houses. Besides each plate was a bowl of scented water for washing the fingers, and a napkin of soft white damask. ‘I hear it is discouraged to visit the country now in some circles, for folk do say it is a place of devils and would have none of these canting Papists.’

‘You know I hold no love for Papists, Brother—but it does a man’s mind good to behold the wonders of Rome. There is beauty beyond imagining to be seen there, and it would be a sad day if religious prejudice ever prevented our experiencing such things.’

‘Well, well, I suppose you are right, Nick. I say only what is the opinion of many these days.’

‘Wait until you see the marble statuary I have brought for your beloved garden,’ Sir Nicholas said, smiling at his brother-in-law with obvious affection. Despite their banter there was clearly a good understanding between them, and Catherine found herself envying the warmth of this family circle. ‘And somewhere amongst the baggage that follows me I have a crystal posset set for Sarah that came from Venice. When you have seen these and more of the treasures I have brought back from my travels I’ll wager you will sing another tune.’

‘I trust you have not brought Matthew any indecent ladies?’ Sarah said, and then giggled at the mocking look in her brother’s eyes. ‘You will have our neighbours denouncing us as wicked pagans before the pulpit on Sunday.’

‘Only ladies swathed in folds to cover their charms—and a cherub or two, sister mine,’ Nick replied and blew a kiss to her. ‘Though for my own estate it is a different matter, and I have some fine Greek gods in all their maleness—but I had best not tell you more lest I offend those innocent ears.’

Sarah dimpled and shook her head at her unrepentant brother, turning her bewitching smile on Catherine.

‘You will forgive us for neglecting you, Mistress Catherine, but it seems an age since my brother was here with us. He has sent messages and gifts from his journeying, but to have him here is a gift beyond price.’

‘Yes, I imagine it must be so. I have only my father, my aunt and cousin. It must be pleasant to have brothers and sisters.’

‘I have another sister,’ Sarah told her. ‘Agatha is some fifteen years older and has a different mother, but Nick and I are true brother and sister. We had another brother, Harry, but he died when travelling in Italy with friends. It was some years ago and I was but a child, so I hardly remember him, but Nick adored him of course.’ Following her gaze across the table, Catherine saw that the laughter had faded from Sir Nicholas’s eyes and wondered at it. What could cause him to look like that? There was bleakness and anger in his face, a kind of haunting sadness that somehow touched her heart.

‘That was sad for your family,’ she said. ‘It is always hard to lose someone you love.’

‘Yes, but much harder for Nick than me,’ Sarah said, seeming to become aware of her brother’s silence. ‘And Matthew has three sisters and two brothers, of course.’ She looked fondly at her husband. ‘We are truly blessed with our family in having many of them close by.’

Her husband smiled at her and addressed some trifling remark to Nick about his journey. After that, the talk was turned to politics, touching briefly on the plot concerning the Duke of Norfolk’s alleged attempt to arrange a marriage with Mary of Scots without seeking the Queen’s permission, and then veering to the shocking prices of wheat and wool, before coming round to family matters. Catherine found the time passed very pleasantly, and though she said little herself she enjoyed the conversation of others.

She was aware that Sir Nicholas had given the evening a touch of spice with his stories, many of which she was sure he had invented purely for his sister’s amusement. That he was a clever man well able to hold his own in any company she could not doubt. However, she clung stubbornly to her picture of him as an idle rogue who wasted his time with feckless companions and thought it amusing to throw rotten fruit at a hapless actor.

It was past nine when Sarah took the ladies to her parlour for a sweet tisane, which she said would give them ease and aid their rest in a strange bed.

‘Matthew and Nick will talk long into the night,’ she said, ‘and my day begins at cockcrow. I shall bid you good night now, ma’am— Mistress Catherine. I wish you both sweet dreams.’

‘How fortunate we were to find such hospitality,’ Lady Stamford said, as they retired to their chamber to discover everything in readiness for their comfort, a warm brick passed between the sheets and a small fire in the grate. ‘Such open kindness is not often met with in strangers, Catherine. It has quite lifted my spirits and restored my faith in my fellow beings.’

So saying, Lady Stamford removed her wig, climbed into bed and fell asleep within seconds of her head touching the goose-feather pillow.

Catherine lay wakeful at her side for some time, listening to her aunt’s gentle snoring and the creaking in the eaves. The moaning of a dying wind was not disturbing, for in such a solid house as this there was a feeling of safety. It must have been late into the night when she heard the tread of boots along the hall and Sir Nicholas’s voice calling a cheery goodnight to his host.

And then she slept.

Waking at cockcrow, Catherine thought longingly of her day at home. She would have been out even now with her horses and dogs, riding the estate while the dew was still upon the ground.

Rising from the bed in which her aunt slept on, Catherine dressed quickly and went downstairs. It was a fine day, the only signs of the storm some debris strewn upon the ground, and with luck she would be able to escape into the gardens without being seen.

Sarah Middleton kept a good kitchen garden, with lots of soft fruit bushes, and spring vegetables beginning to push their way through the soft earth. Everything smelled so fresh and sweet after the rain, and Catherine stooped to pick one of the herbs used for cooking, rubbing it between her fingers and holding them to her nose to catch the fragrance of rosemary.

‘You are abroad early, Mistress Moor. I had not thought to see you here this morning.’

Catherine jumped, swinging round guiltily to face the man who had spoken to her.

‘I hope I do not intrude,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I ought to have waited until we were summoned, but I looked out and was tempted. It is always my habit to rise early at home.’